Meg's Diary
by Tam Lynne
Summary: With the Opera House in chaos, Meg Giry searches for . . . a little privacy?
1. Act 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  I think Andrew Lloyd Webber owns most of these people, or at least the particular incarnations of them I'm abusing at the moment.  Sigh.

The Other Story – Meg's Diary

Act 1

6:30 AM – I feel so tired I could practically faint.  Stupid Christine's been keeping me up all night again singing at three in the morning.  Three in the bleeping morning!  Christine may be sad and alone and my best friend, but the walls in this place are practically paper and _sleep comes first_.  Note to self – switch dressing rooms with Jammes as soon as conceivably possible.  

8:30 AM – Mother thinks we're horrible.  Tell me something I don't know.  She also thinks that there's a Phantom who lurks in the secret passageways of the Opera House, and insists on telling all the corps de ballet about it.  Very embarrassing.  Perhaps Mother schizophrenic?

2:00 PM – Carlotta bursting my eardrums.  Christine stepping on my feet.   This is not exactly the best rehearsal of my life.  I will get my revenge!  They all think I'm so little and harmless, but they'll see . . .

3:00 PM – Perfect opportunity.  If I tell Jammes that that rustling noise back there is the Phantom of the Opera . . . 

Okay, I didn't mean for her to take it _that _seriously.

What the heck?  Why not take it and run with it?

Yes!  Carlotta's gone!  Singing and dancing in the streets!  And the new managers are annoyed . . . hehe.  They're so cute when they're mad.  I'd fall madly in love with one of them if it weren't so obvious that they were already madly in love with each other.

Another stroke of genius!   I'll tell the managers Christine can sing the part.  _That _should teach her to randomly vocalize at three in the morning.

She can sing the part.  That kind of backfired, didn't it . . . 

9:00 PM – Well, Christine was an amazing success.  I suppose I won't kill her tonight.

As long as she doesn't start singing in three in the morning again, anyway.  Then I'll have to.  Just as a matter of principle.

11:00 PM – Went to congratulate Christine.  After all, she is my best friend.  But she started babbling about an angel of music.  Told her she was dreaming, stories like this couldn't be true, and that she was talking in riddles, which isn't like her at all – Christine usually doesn't have the imagination, poor girl.  She's the kind of person who doesn't understand a metaphorical story if it hits her in the face.

Actually, that probably explains why she thinks there's an angel of music coming to give her singing lessons.

In any case, I told her that she was looking pale.  Which was a hint that she ought to get more sleep.  Which was a hint that I wasn't enjoying her little exercises.  But I don't think she got it.  

Then, of course, Mother came to tell me to go practice with the other girls.  I told her I would, then went and hid in my dressing room.  I need sleep!

11:30 PM – Just fallen asleep on the couch when I heard someone knocking at my door.  Grumbled, moped, got up to answer it; turned out to be foppish Viscomte, who shouted "Christine, can it be you!" and tried to give me a hug.  I told him he needed glasses and that I was blatantly not Christine; am not nearly so blonde as she is, for a start.  He looked sheepish, agreed I wasn't Christine, said he must have gotten the wrong room and asked me for directions.  Pointed him down the hallway and slammed the door.

Note to self: Tell Mother to tell the managers to find some more intelligent patrons.

Back to sleep!

12:00 PM – Was wakened yet again by mysterious voice singing from my mirror, asking me to sing for him, the Angel of Music.  Too tired to get up; told him he wanted Christine Daaé, next room over, and would he please get his directions right before singing in strange people's rooms?  Christine is more than enough.  Mysterious voice sounded rather embarrassed, said this had never happened before, really, he _thought_ the mirror seemed rather small, and promised to check his map more carefully next time.  

Just remembered Christine's Angel of Music story.  This explains a lot.  Probably means Mother isn't schizophrenic, either, which is nice to know.

Have just realized that this probably means Christine will be singing to mysterious voice in the middle of the night.  Stupid, stupid Meg!  Will try stuffing pillows in my ears.  Maybe it'll work this time.

12:30 AM – Foppish Viscomte is back.  Didn't even knock, just sauntered into my rooms like he owned them.  Actually, he probably does own them.  Stupid rich patrons.  Anyways, he asked me whether it was usual for singers to have strange men in their rooms in the middle of the night.  Pointed out that he was a strange man who was in my room in the middle of the night and I rather wished he would leave, upon which he blushed and left.  

What does one have to do to get some sleep around here?

1:30 AM – Thought I heard shaking in the middle of the night.  Ignored it.  Probably foppish Viscomte again wanting to borrow a comb, or something ridiculous like that.

2:30 AM – In come the managers, looking for Christine.  Told them this was clearly not Christine's room, and they should get out before I threw the Viscomte at them (who had snuck back into my room and was, as I thought, brushing his hair).  Have really, really got to remember to switch dressing rooms.

 3:30 AM – In comes Jammes, looking for a confidante.  Apparently she is madly in love with Joseph Buquet.  Grotesque.  Shooed her out with a broom, as is customary with ballet rats.

Have just remembered that I am a ballet rat.

Oh, well.  I'm a special ballet rat.  Who needs her sleep.

5:30 AM – Someone knocking at my mirror again.  Did not get up; instead, informed mysterious voice that this was not Christine's room, and if anyone else mistook it for Christine's room, I was going to throw a temper tantrum.  And my temper tantrums are more impressive than Carlotta's.  Any day.

Turns out mysterious voice was not looking for Christine.  Was, in fact, looking for me, in order that I could deliver some notes to the managers, since Mother is asleep and apparently harder to wake than a doped opossum.  Feel rather stupid.

6:00 AM – Have delivered put notes on desks of frantic managers, who are looking all over for Christine.  Decided to skip practice today.  Have not had more than two hours uninterrupted sleep in a lifetime, and will probably fall over onto Piangi if attempt to practice today.  Actually, will probably fall asleep on Piangi; his stomach is already beginning to look like a nice big pillow.  Ah, bed . . .

7:00 AM – Foppish Viscomte has appeared in my room again.  Looking for managers this time, apparently.  Upset about his note.  Directed him to managers and fell down again.

7:10 AM – Found Carlotta in my closet, rather randomly.  Only noticed because closet was strained practically to the breaking point.  When asked why she was in there, she looked shifty and said something about spying on that little brat Christine.  

Why does everyone think Christine lives in my room?!?!

At this point, another note popped through my mirror, with 'Carlotta' on it.  Handed it to Carlotta, who decided it was from foppish Viscomte and set off at a run – as much of a run as an elephant can reach – in order to attack him.  Feel sorry for Viscomte.  Rather doubt he sent the note; do not think he can spell 'Carlotta'.  

7:15 AM – Christine has just popped through my mirror.  Sent her home, in case she started randomly vocalizing again, then went off to tell the managers and Mother.  Told them she needed rest.  Would have mentioned the fact that I, too, need rest, but was kicked in the ankle by Mother, who didn't want her dire warnings interrupted.  Instead, was sent off to practice. Am going to fall over and die from sleep loss.

8:00 AM – Christine is playing the pageboy and has to pretend to be Carlotta's lover.  Would feel sorry for her, if I didn't feel so sorry for myself.

8:00 PM – Mysterious voices coming out of the ceiling, Christine looking terrified, Carlotta looking annoyed.  Carlotta croaking.  Wait - did I fall asleep in the middle of practice?

Sent us out to dance.  Stepped on Jammes' toes by accident.  They think it's because I'm afraid of the Phantom, apparently.  Need coffee!

Chandelier has fallen.  Opera is blatantly over.  

Wait a second – Christine and foppish Viscomte on the roof.  Mysterious voice playing around with the chandelier.  CAN FINALLY SLEEP!


	2. Act 2

Disclaimer – Yes, yes, I don't own them.  We all know this.  

Thank you to everyone who reviewed; cookies to you all!

Act 2, Six Months Later

6:00 AM – Christine has not randomly vocalized in months; has, instead, been wandering around muttering things to herself and flashing her engagement ring.  She might not be quite sane, but at least she's quietly insane.  I feel bright, chipper, alive, awake, alert and enthusiastic.  And ready for the masquerade tonight.  

6:30 AM – All right, who took my Halloween mask?  I was going to use it in the masquerade; I put it in my underwear drawer just last night for safekeeping . . .

Someone's been going through my underwear drawer.  This is vaguely disturbing.

Favorite red silk dress missing, too.  Would suspect foppish Viscomte, but he's already complained to me how red washes out his skin tone.  

Just remembered about Viscomte and Christine's red scarf.  This is beginning to look suspicious . . . 

Then again, he _did _give the red one back to her, which he didn't do with the blue one, the white one, or the green one.  This rather lets him off the hook as far as red dress is concerned.

7:00 AM – Dress has definitely been stolen by one of the ballet rats.  Will demand to know which one it is as soon as Mother leaves the room.

Hah!  Mother has gone to deliver dire warnings to some poor unsuspecting tourist.  Can now threaten to give any ballet rat who does not own up to stealing my stuff to the Opera Ghost.  

Jammes suggested that the Phantom of the Opera took my dress.  Threw ballet shoe at her.  Just because Buquet has been tragically killed, she thinks she's become the heroine of the story.  Silly girl.  Heroine is blatantly me.

7:00 PM – Desperately searching for something to wear to the Masquerade.  Ended up borrowing one of Christine's dresses – well, actually stealing one of Christine's dresses, but she'll never notice.  Too busy staring longingly into Viscomte's eyes.  

Have given up Christine's dress as a lost cause.  Christine will never be a dancer; too chubby round the middle.  Must go find something else.

 7:30 PM – Hah!  Apparently I'm exactly the same size as Firmin.  Astounding coincidence, but his pretty blue dress fits like a glove. As for mask, that was easy – Mother keeps a store in her back room.  Apparently this is in case the Phantom loses his, which has happened once or twice before.  Mother says Phantom refuses to talk about it, but she got an impression that he'd accidentally flushed it down the toilet.

8:00 PM – Everyone at masquerade has burst out randomly singing.  Christine must be contagious.  

Lovely party, though.  Managers at their wittiest, and Firmin does not seem to have recognized his dress yet.  

Firmin has begun to stare at dress suspiciously.  Good thing Carlotta is here – the entire corps de ballet could hide behind her.

8:30 PM – Have seen someone wearing my mask!  Honestly, people at this opera house have no shame.  Will go up and demand my property be returned.

AND he's cut up my dress!  My favorite red dress!  He's wearing it like a cloak, of all things, and he's gotten rid of all the pretty butterflies I put on it . . .

Hmmm.  It seems Jammes was right – the Phantom of the Opera _has _stolen my mask and dress.  And is now giving a lecture to the entire party, so I can hardly go up and yell at him now.  He had better return the mask, that's all I can say.  

Wait – Phantom of the Opera has been going through my underwear drawer?

Oh – he probably thought it was Christine's.  Why didn't I remember to switch dressing rooms?

Note to self: Next time, pay attention to notes to self!

9:00 PM – Darn.  He's gone.  I'll just have to make Christine yell at him for me next time she sees him.  She owes me, anyways, for all the times I've covered up for her in practice when she was snuggling with foppish Viscomte . . . who, by the way, is blatantly coveting my/Firmin's dress.

Have just realized how much fun I can have with that mask, now that it's forever associated with the Opera Ghost.  Want it back now more than ever.  All the ballet rats will live in fear of me, Meg Giry, Substitute Opera Ghost!

Insert evil laughter here. 

Note to self: Work on evil laughter.  Firmin just asked me if I was having an epileptic fit.  Then again, he might have been just being snarky about the dress.  Which seems to now have chocolate stains on it.  Oh, well.   

7:00 AM – Sounds of many people singing off-key.  Am going back to sleep.

8:30 AM – Have decided to skip ballet practice today.  In fact, have decided not to go to practice at all until Phantom returns my mask and mutilated dress to me.  If he wants me to dance in Don Juan Triumphant, he can give back my stuff and then we'll talk.

Of course, there might be some difficulty explaining this to Mother.

9:00 AM – Ack!  Mother coming down the hallway in one direction, Carlotta and Piangi in the other – trapped!  Will hide behind Carlotta, as Piangi is rather fond of the ballet rats (in a grotesque fat-tenor sort of way) and I would rather face Carlotta than angry Mother any day.  

9:10 AM – Turns out Mother and Carlotta were headed to the same place, anyways.  Manager's office, of course.  Well, beats hanging around listening to Christine mope next door.

Actually, seems like Christine is here.  With foppish Viscomte.  I could recognize that mope anywhere, even from behind the upholstered armchair that is Carlotta.

9:20 AM – So Christine hears voices in her head?  Why does that not surprise me?

Mother is being enigmatic and cryptic.  As usual.  

Carlotta and Piangi are annoyed with their parts.  And the Opera Ghost thinks Piangi is fat.  In fact, Opera Ghost has an opinion on just about everything – except for my red dress, of course.  In fact, there was no mention of my stolen garments whatsoever.  Am really going to have to hunt him down and demand them back . . . 

Have been distracted from angry thoughts by foppish Viscomte and Christine having lover's quarrel.  

Christine has thrown a Carlotta-worthy tantrum and has had to be coaxed around by foppish Viscomte, who has decided to catch the Phantom by a) having Christine sing (which she would have done anyway) and b) locking the doors.  Apparently this is supposed to keep the Phantom in the Opera.  Since he never leaves the Opera House at all, do not know how this will help, but whatever makes them happy, I suppose.  

Entire situation has degenerated into screaming match.  Everyone has ganged up on Mother.  Can't say that I blame them – Mother's fake foreign accent gets on everyone's nerves eventually.  

Note to self: Next time attending meeting of managers, bring popcorn.

10:00 AM – Rehearsal of Don Juan Triumphant.  Hmmm . . . I wonder if there's some obscure symbolism in the choice of theme here?

Nah.

10:30 AM – Piangi cannot sing.  Carlotta flirting with Piangi.  This is more disgusting than Jammes and Buquet.  

12:30 PM – Lunch break.  Have decided to find Christine and tell her to tell the Phantom to give me back my clothes.  

Christine busy moping about her dead father, and life in general.  Do not see what she has to complain about – nobody's been rummaging through _her _underwear drawer.  Although not for lack of trying, I'm sure.

In any case, have interrupted Christine's mopings to tell her to go find the Phantom and give him my message.  Reminded her of the (multiple) times foppish Viscomte has woken me up in the middle of the night; since Viscomte is practically her pet, am holding her responsible for this.  

Christine has finally agreed to go find Phantom.  Am tagging along with her, since I don't trust her not to get distracted by the voices in her head along the way.

1:00 PM – Christine is being distracted by the voices in her head . . . 

1:30 PM – Went and got foppish Viscomte to make Christine stop randomly vocalizing and yell at Phantom for me.  However, Viscomte has gotten thoroughly sidetracked by sight of Christine in thin garments on cold day, and started yelling at Phantom about other, obviously less important issues.  Expedition a total flop.  _And_ I've missed my lunch.

8:00 PM – Am rebelling.  Will not dance in Don Juan Triumphant until my clothes are returned!    

Have found lovely seat in the audience.  Box 5, in fact, which is for some reason empty.

Hmm.  Have just remembered why Box 5 is empty.

Oh, well.  If the Phantom shows up, then he'd better beware.  An angry ballet rat is worse than a thousand magical lassos, whatever Mother says.  Sometimes wonder of Buquet didn't hang himself to get away from obsessive Jammes.

8:30 PM – Wonderful view from up here.  No wonder the Phantom likes it so much.

This is odd.  Piangi seems to have lost a great deal of weight in a very short time.

Note to self: Ask him about miracle diet after the show.

8:45 PM – Christine has ripped off Piangi's mask, revealing him to be Phantom of the Opera.  Badly in need of a makeover.  

Unfortunately, his means there is no miracle diet.  Too bad.

Have just realized the Phantom is still wearing my mutilated red dress!  Screaming in rage – although the ballet seems to think I'm screaming at the dead body falling from the ceiling, which is silly; Carlotta parades around carrying shrunken heads all the time.  This is the final straw.  I'm going down to his underground lair and TAKING BACK MY CLOTHING.  And rescuing Christine, but that's secondary; Christine is a grown woman and probably perfectly capable of rescuing herself.

Couldn't help snickering at that last statement.

Well, in any case, foppish Viscomte has gone to rescue Christine, so I don't need to worry about her.  

Couldn't help snickering at that statement, either.

Well, between the two of them, they _must _have enough sense to outwit one tormented genius, I'm sure.

Right.  Really.

In any case, not my problem.

Why is foppish Viscomte walking like an Egyptian?  

9:15 PM – Apparently, to outwit the Phantom, walking like an Egyptian is necessary.   Only Mother calls it "keep your hand at the level at your eyes."  Have spent several minutes pondering this, and decided it is to make the Phantom laugh so hard he is incapacitated and easy to defeat.

9:30 PM – Have informed Mother that I am going down into the basement of the Opera to find the Phantom and my missing garments.

Oops.  Forgot about that acoustic effect of the Opera House.  And when everyone started shouting about "Revenge for Piangi and Bouquet", the bit about my missing garments was rather cut off. 

Note to self: Never kill a tenor, however tempting it might be.  It seems to trigger blatant overreaction.  

10:00 PM – I seem to be leading a mob.  

Mother is probably not going to be pleased with me about this.

10:10 PM – The Phantom is there, on the chair.  My dress he does wear!

Hmmm . . . not only am I leading a mob, I'm also Dr. Seuss.  I can see a whole new range of careers opening up in front of me. 

Anyway, angry mob is converging behind me, so if I want to salvage any part of that nice red fabric, I'd better do so now.

10:15 PM – Just in time!  Angry mob may have torn Phantom of the Opera to shreds, but at least my red dress is safe and sound, if rather the worse for wear.  Now I just need to find that Halloween mask . . .

Oh, and Christine and her foppish Viscomte.  I'd forgotten about them.

Oh, well.  Christine should be easy enough to find.  Just follow the random vocalizing.  

10:30 PM – Have found mask!  My life is once again complete.

Hmmm.  Does this sound like anyone else I know?

Well, I've always thought the Opera needed a Phantom-ess


End file.
